


Rough and Dusty

by madsydva



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cowboy Greg, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, John Wayne, M/M, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Old West, rough, the dust was dusty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 00:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15473889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: Mycroft has a Wild West surprise...





	Rough and Dusty

**Author's Note:**

> This is was to fill the prompt Rough for the Mystrade is our Division group on Facebook.

The sun was blinding. Mycroft shields his eyes as he walks down the dry and dusty path. He looks down at his shoes that had once been shiny. They were covered in dusty tan dirt. So were the hems of his trousers. 

He sighs and presses on, his eyes finally adjusting to the sun and he looks around at his surroundings. Everything was tan and dry and dusty. The ground stretched out for miles in every direction with nothing except for a few sparse shrubs here and there. The wind blew across the path in front of him, stirring up dust. When it settles, he notices a wooden fence in front of him and he continues to walk towards it. On the other side of the fence, he sees a figure walking towards him. His eyes focus on the dirt covered cowboy boots, before moving up the thick jean clad legs, topped with a shiny belt buckle, then to a dirty plaid shirt. As the figure, finally steps up to the fence, Mycroft’s eyes focus on the face underneath the wide brimmed hat.

“Gregory?” Mycroft’s voice has a note of disbelief.

“Well Hello there, Gorgeous.” Greg steps up the rungs of the gate swinging his leg over. “What’re you doin out here? It’s awful hot today.”

Greg’s speech had a hint of American Cowboy twang to it. Which was odd but Mycroft couldn’t form the words to protest. His mouth worked but no sound came out. 

Greg hops down from the fence and pulls off his work gloves, shoving them in his back pocket.

“I sure am parched.” Greg moves away from the fence towards a clapboard building that Mycroft swears wasn’t there before. Greg’s boots clunk onto the wood of the shaded porch. Mycroft steps up after him turning to face Greg as he stands over a big wooden barrel of water. 

Greg removes his hat, wiping his damp forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Mycroft just stares and can’t do much else. Greg unhooks a big metal ladle from the post next to the water barrel and dips it in. He brings the ladle up to his lips, drinking deeply, water running down his chin. His throat bobs obscenely as he gulps down the water, Mycroft suppresses a squeak.

“I’ve just about got that fence fixed at the back of the pasture. Should keep the cattle from getting out again.” Greg starts to ramble on about what has apparently been his days work, between gulps of water. Mycroft just continues to stare at him. 

Finally realizing that Mycroft hasn’t said anything at all, Greg stops short. “Are you alright, Gorgeous? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Mycroft opens and closes his mouth a few times before choking out, “Fine.”

Greg gives him a worried look. “Why don’t you sit down?” Greg moves around the water barrel grabbing Mycroft’s arm and backs him onto a bench up against the wall. “I told you not to wear these bloody suits outside. It’s too hot out here.” Greg starts to unbutton Mycroft’s jacket and then his waistcoat. He was so close and Mycroft could smell the dirt and sweat on him. Mycroft lets out the smallest of whimpers and Greg gives him a curious look. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Beautiful?”

Mycroft swallows. “Greg... you’re just so... rough.” He manages to choke out.

A cheeky grin spreads across Greg’s face. “Rough, hmm?” He dips down and starts nuzzling under Mycroft’s ear. “You like it, My?”

Mycroft’s hands come up to grip at Greg’s shirt front as he starts to suck kisses down his neck. “Greg...so rough....” Mycroft is panting already as his eyes close.

“My...”

“...so rough...” Mycroft can feel Greg’s hand rubbing across his chest.

“...My...”

“Oh... Greg... so rough...”

“My!” Greg’s voice is louder now.

“Greg...” Mycroft’s eyes fly open and he gasps. It’s dark and he recognizes the pattern on the ceiling of Greg’s living room above him. He’s laying almost flat, propped up on something warm and firm. A hand brushes over his chest.

“My, are you alright?” Greg asks with a concerned tone above him. Mycroft realizes he was laying back on Greg’s chest.

Mycroft clears his throat. “Fine, Gregory. I.. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You were breathing funny and mumbling my name.” Greg scoots underneath him trying to see him a bit better. Mycroft feels a hand brushing through his hair. “Were you having a nightmare?”

“I’m not sure.” Mycroft turns to look at the telly screen where the last of the credits were rolling on the black and white movie they had been watching. “Oh... what did I miss?”

“John Wayne handed over his gun and gave up his cowboy life to become a farmer and marry the girl.” 

Mycroft blinks sleepily at the telly and makes a noncommittal noise. Maybe watching a western was not such a good idea.

Mycroft feels Greg nuzzling above his ear. “Are you sure you’re alright, beautiful?”

Or maybe it had been an excellent one.

**Author's Note:**

> I did a little bit of research on John Wayne movies to find the one I wanted. Just in case I need to include anything. I’m nothing but too thorough sometimes... The movie they were watching is Angel and the Badman. He really does give up his gun to become a farmer at the end!


End file.
